


Hey, Brendon. It's me, Ryan.

by jimmysdead



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phone Calls, Ryden, Sad, Texting, post!split, sin - Freeform, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmysdead/pseuds/jimmysdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened, Brendon was half asleep. He didn’t look at the caller ID when he picked up.</p>
<p>“Hey, Brendon. It’s me. It’s Ryan,”</p>
<p>He hung up.</p>
<p>[Alternatively titled: The Three Times Ryan Called Brendon, and the One Time Brendon Called Back]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Brendon. It's me, Ryan.

The first time it happened, Brendon was half asleep. He didn’t look at the caller ID when he picked up.

 

“Hey, Brendon. It’s me. It’s Ryan,”

  
He hung up. He still hadn’t forgiven Ryan for leaving, for leaving the band, for leaving him. It just hurt to even hear his name mentioned, let alone his voice. He rolled over in bed, and shut his eyes again, ignoring it when his cell rang again. He was trying to convince himself that he didn’t care, although he was definitely bullshitting himself and he knew it. He knew it because he’d heard Northern Downpour on the radio the other day, and nearly crashed the car. He’d pulled up at the side of a road, in the middle of nowhere, and just sobbed to himself, silently. It took him a whole hour to recompose himself enough to be confident driving home.

* * *

 

The second time, Brendon hadn’t even heard the phone ringing. He’d left it on the dresser while he’d been in the shower, and when he went to pull on his clothes so he could actually start the day, he listened to the message on loudspeaker.

 

“Hey, Brendon. It’s me, Ryan,”

  
That was as far as he let the message get, before he deleted and went about his day. He didn’t mention it to anybody. Not Spencer, not Dallon, not anybody. It wasn’t worth mentioning, was it? It was just that Ryan wouldn’t leave him alone. But, that wasn’t anything new. Ryan was like a ghost, that followed him around. On the radio, when one of their songs came on. One that Ryan had written. Or when he stumbled across videos from old tours, or interviews online. Ryan was a ghost.

* * *

 

Would you like me to search the internet for “ghosts?”.

 

“No,” Brendon sighed, looking at his phone, “Go away, Siri, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit,”

 

He leant back, looking up at the ceiling. He had spent the past few years feeling like a ghost. Sort of. He was only the ghost of his former self, the self that was dorky and didn’t know when to shut up. It was like he’d become something else. He felt different, and he didn’t really like it. It had been two years, three months since Ryan Ross broke his heart, and things were going okay. Ish. He was determined to enjoy his life, his marriage, his band, but things seemed empty without that bastard.

 

Brendon decided that Ryan was like insomnia. He kept him awake at night. He sat up next to his beautiful wife most nights, running through his head the ‘could-have-been’s and ‘what-if’s. He and Ryan could have been. What if Ryan had never left? Brendon was determined not to cry.

 

His phone was on silent, but he knew who it was. He’d never blocked, or even deleted the number. He was collecting ghosts, his prized possession was the ghost of Ryan Ross. He didn’t pick up.

_Hey, Brendon. It’s me. -R. [03:15AM]_

 

Brendon glanced at his phone for a moment.

 

_I’m sorry. -R. [03:17AM]_

 

Brendon deleted the messages, and went to have a drink. He didn’t speak about them to his wife, even though they were troubling him no end. He didn’t want Sarah to get involved in this. Ryan’s ghost was his to deal with, and his alone. He kept his phone on the counter.

 

_Will you ever be able to forgive me? -R. [03:44AM]_

 

Brendon sighed. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to forgive Ryan, for all the heartache he caused, but he also wanted him back in his life. God, Brendon’s life was hard.

  
He poured himself a glass of straight whiskey, and drank it all, while looking at the message. He didn’t text back.

* * *

 

When Sarah kicked Brendon out of the house, he was a wreck. They’d fallen apart completely, and now Brendon was apparently obsessed with Ryan Ross. He wasn’t, honestly. He was just intrigued. Every so often, he would get random texts from Ryan, and although he’d never worked out what any of them meant, he was sure they all added up to something. Come on, it was Ryan for fuck’s sake. He always meant something.

 

Brendon was sitting in a crappy motel room. He’d been staring at the wall for about three hours now. Everything sucked. He’d not even noticed his phone ringing, until it started vibrating, signalling that he had about seven texts from somebody.

 

_Brendon. -R. [8.30PM]_

_It’s me. -R. [8.45PM]_

 

_Things aren’t okay, please pick up. I heard about Sarah. I heard about you. Spencer’s been trying to call you, please call somebody back. -R. [9.02PM]_

_What if you’ve died? Bren, promise me you’re not dead. -R. [9.45PM]_

_Where are you, Brenny B? -R. [10.14PM]_

_I’m so, so sorry. -R. [10.17PM]_

_This is all my fault. I love you. -R. [11.24PM]_

 

Brendon blinked. Maybe he was a little numb, but he couldn’t comprehend any of it. He scrolled through his missed calls, they were all from Ryan and Spencer. It took him a little while. Scratch that, it was more than a little while. At about two in the morning, Brendon finally worked up the guts to do it.

 

When the phone finished ringing, Brendon was convinced that it was going to go onto answerphone. After all, isn’t that what he deserved?

 

“Ryan,” He breathed out, half in tears, “Ryan. It’s me, it’s Brendon,”

 

Silence.

 

Brendon had to swallow his pride. He had to start telling the truth for once, because, frankly, he’d been lying his entire life. To his parents, to his friends, to himself, and most importantly, to Ryan. He’d never owned up to anything, trying to say everything with sex and kisses, but that was never enough for Ryan. He’d only believe it if he heard it. Brendon knew that.

 

“Ryan, don’t hang up,” He burst out, voice shaky.

 

Silence.

 

And then, Brendon could hear it. Soft intakes of breath, erratic and followed by almost silent sniffing.

 

“Ryan. You know I love you too,”

 

The line went dead. Ryan had hung up.

 

_Will I see you again? -R. [02:07AM]_

 

_Can you come to that crappy motel, on Route 357? -B. [2:08AM]_

_  
On my way. -R [02:10AM. _

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of the Ryden Renaissance.


End file.
